Lights gleamed from the lower rooms, and, on a nearer approach to the building, the sound of revelry might be heard from within. She waited a few minutes, then greeted the burly doorman who stood as the building’s lone sentry. Immediately beneath her lay Willesden,—the most charming and secluded village in the neighbourhood of the metropolis—with its scattered farm-houses, its noble granges, and its old grey church-tower just peeping above a grove of rook-haunted trees. The deafening report froze time. After him! A hundred pounds to the man who takes him. Meanwhile, Mr. U.
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